Only Those Who Risk Going Too Far Can Possibly Find Out How Far They Can Go - T.S. Eliot

I love to run. I never used to love to run, in fact I used to hate running. My throat burned, my knees ached, and my lungs squeezed by the time I got around the corner, but moving to Geneva and entering my 40s changed all that. Someone once told me that once you are 40, you have to exercise twice as hard for half the result. True enough.

I started running seriously shortly after moving here in 2005. People are very fit in Switzerland, you just don't see the obesity that is so ubitiquous in North America. Add to that the aforementioned 40-something and I decided that the odd visit to the gym and rambles with Murphy just weren't cutting it for me any longer.

Enter my friend and fellow Canadian Cindy...marathoner, triathlete, baseball coach, mother of three and general superwoman. She moved me off of the gym treadmill and out into the Geneva countryside that surrounds our village. She got me going and kept me moving those first few months. The endorphin highs, fast fitness results, the clearmindedness and pure physical joy that occurs while running, and the magnificence of my surroundings have kept me going ever since even through injuries.

I took these pictures during one of my regular runs through the villages and vineyards of Choulex, Carre d'Aval, and Puplinge.

Now it goes without saying that part of the reason running is so addictive in Geneva is that I don't have to step off of curbs, stop at intersections or wait for green lights. I run on trails, quiet roads and winding paths through vineyards.

I am not looking at suburban sprawl and stripmalls. I look at rolling hills, mountain peaks, and depending on the season, grapes, sunflower fields, apple and kiwi orchards, spectacular architecture and travel magazine-worthy Swiss villages. It is an all-you-can-eat buffet for the senses and must be one of the most visually splendid places in the world.

It's a long climb from the flat up and around the hills and terraced vineyards into Carre d'Aval. The rising strains of Coldplay's 'Viva la Vida' echoing through my Ipod always push me to the top and I try to resist the temptation to do a Rocky-like fist-punching-air dance when I finally get there.

The newly opened Café de la Poste in my village.

Canadian Thanksgiving in Geneva

We celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving this past weekend by surrounding ourselves with our usual contingent of fellow Canadian expats and a mighty feast. The weather was near-perfect and the 9 kids in attendance had a ball playing football, swinging from a rope, climbing trees, and jumping into leaf piles while us bigger kids indulged in local wines from the Château du Crest and pretended to help with dinner.

C2, and the Captain giving Cindy the benefit of their carving experience (or lack of)

Cindy, Mighty Mom and I

Mighty Mouse and J

The previous day, we took advantage of this lovely, warm Geneva Autumn to hike our favorite Les Voirons in nearby St. Cergues, France. Two hours up and 1.5 hours down through some muddy conditions. Where else but in Europe can you hike to a 500+ year old church or watch silent glide planes soar by at eye level on the summit - breathtaking!

On the summit of Les Voirons at 1,480 meters soaring over Geneva and neighbouring France.

Puppies get thirsty too!

The 500 year-old church on the flank of Les Voirons

The Pumpkins are Coming, the Pumpkins are Coming

It is now October in Geneva and it's harvest time. It started with the vendange when all the vineyards heavy with grapes were relieved of their juicy burden. It moved on to the orchards and all the pommiers were picked clean of their crunchy treats. For the next month or so, we can stop at the roadside farmstands and buy apples, freshly squeezed juice and cider.

J loved observing the aforementioned unquestionably, but he has been waiting impatiently for the big kahuna of harvests, the pumpkins and squash, or les courges as they are collectively termed in this part of the world.

We have dubbed these freshly picked piles of courges awaiting collection, 'Courge Inuksuks'

The farmers had to lovingly blanket these'Courge Inuksuks' with straw as a frost was anticipated during the night.

A delightful little marché des courges has opened in our village directly across from the 2 largest pumpkin fields to which we make daily pilgrimages. Yesterday, we attended the annual Fête de la courge in Corsier, a neighbouring village, with my friend Mighty Mom and her family.

Wandering row upon row of courges

These are called 'Jack-Be-Little's

J and I enjoying a saucisse lunch at the Fête de la courge in Corsier

The view from Mighty Mom's backyard in Corsier. Looking towards the French Alps and Mont Blanc.

Political Science

A couple of video clips that have greatly amused me of late. For those of us who are on the cusp between great hope and great dread in the lead-up to the U.S. election, the first clip will lighten the mood a little. Thanks Sher and her blog pal Nicole!

http://rosenleaf.typepad.com/livingstonipresume/2008/09/must-see-tv.html?cid=130863266#comments


Secondly, Geneva and part of neighbouring France are home to the massive underground Large Hadron Collider (LHC), the world's largest and highest-energy particle accelerator built by CERN - the European Organization for Nuclear Research. In its' most simple terms, the LHC is attempting to unravel the science behind the big bang theory by analyzing how elementary particles acquire mass.

The only minor side-effect of said experimentation is the negligible risk of creating black holes in the process and sucking ourselves into oblivion. Ya well, I'll still take science over Jerry Falwell any day of the week. Enjoy these scientists rappin...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j50ZssEojtM

The Pumpkin King

How better to spend a cool, windy Sunday afternoon than by carving pumpkins? Let me check the date, oh yes, it's the middle of September and only six weeks to go until Halloween. Let's see six weeks multiplied by 'how many days till Halloween" asked by my 5-year old an average of 30 times a day makes.... Seriously, J is nothing if not a passionate creature. It has always been a trait that I have admired in him as I believe in life one should find the things that one loves and pursue them with passion. Whether it is flying an airplane, rock climbing, playing ringuette or reading Tolkien...to name a few.

It is our great fortune to live adjacent to 3 football field sized pumpkin patches and in the last 3 weeks or so since the little gourds have begun to grow, J lives and breathes their progress and the sweet anticipation of Halloween. At least twice a day, we have to go and check if any pumpkins have come 'unattached' from their roots. He then believes they are his property fair and square. At least twice a week we have to go and look for the Great Pumpkin...C2 made the mistake of telling him the Charlie Brown classic, in which J now fervently believes.

We have a Halloween countdown calendar in his room and everyday J contemplates, with the effort I wish he would apply to his early reading, his costume choices - will it be a ghost, Frankenstein, a chevalier, or a dog. J has merrily told me that Halloween is his favorite holiday, more than Christmas, Easter, and his birthday all together. Now that is passion!


Admiring parent though I am, Halloween will have to be a father-son experience this year as as I will be consuming effervescent glasses of bubbly with my pal Mighty Mom while touring the region of Champagne. Ya well remember that passion thing?

Canada in Every Bite

Friends of ours just returned from spending the summer at their house in Vancouver. As a gift, they brought J a Inuksuk building kit. I have a handcrafted soapstone Inuksuk that my mum bought us last year in Victoria and I adore the compelling symbolism of this iconic Canadian symbol.

Inuksuk are stone landmarks used as signposts or directional markers by the Inuit of the Canadian Arctic. Dominated by permafrost, the Arctic Circle has few natural landmarks and inuksuk have been central to navigation across it. They vary in shape and size, and are an eternal symbol with deep roots in the Inuit culture serving as sentinels signifying safety, hope and friendship.

Inuksuk are increasingly serving as mainstream Canadian national symbols and it was lovely to explain their heritage and silent language to J. They are shown on the flag and coat of arms of the new Canadian territory of Nunavut, and are the logo of the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympic Games - an appropriate symbol of friendship and welcome.

My cherished soapstone Inuksuk should last longer than J's. His was made of maple shortbread and was dismantled as quickly as it was constructed.

Heaven is a Perfect Late Summer Evening

Last night was one of those perfect late summer evenings. The air was warm and fragrant. We lingered at the table over a bottle of Burgundy until twilight. J was playing on his swing when he noticed some activity overhead.

We three plus Murphy and Angus spent the next hour prone on the grass watching a family of bats swoop and soar in hot pursuit of droning mosquitos. We also kept a running count of stars as they winked on one at a time in the darkening night sky.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year...

Its' the first day of school in Geneva. I remember as a kid in Canada that Labour Day weekend, also known as the first weekend in September marked the official end of summer and school started right after it. I guess in Geneva, the powers that be try to make up for the lack of school on Wednesdays by having la rentrée scolaire in what still seems like the heart of summer.

J did have a fantastic summer, we travelled to Italy and France, visited with family and lots of friends. He and I spent plenty of one-on-one time doing a few of our favorite things like pilgramages to Starbucks, feeding the swans on Lake Geneva, touring the Natural History Museum, wandering the wonderful Franz Carl Weber toy shop on the rue de la Croix-d'Or, and stopping for ice cream in the Bourg-de-Four in the heart of the old town.

Still I can't say that I'm too disappointed to see school start up again. I think I was starting to get boring as a constant playmate. J's spirited antics were starting to wind up in a big way in the last week and his 10:00 pm+ bedtimes were beginning to fatigue me.

J is a big boy now, he is in school full time in deuxieme enfantine (Swiss equivalent of senior kindergarten). Full-time in Geneva, however, means 8:30-4:00 with a 2.5 hour lunch break at home and no school on Wednesdays. So here we go again...watch this space.

Fêtes de Genève

The two-week long Fêtes de Genève just finished. Our wallets are a lot emptier and I don't care if I ever see another rollercoaster or Haunted House. Still J's enthusiasm made our multiple trips worth every minute.


We bought seats in the Jardin d'anglais for the closing fireworks this year after braving the throngs of spectators in the streets last year. They were magnificent and J was utterly mesmerized.

Cat and Mouse

Angus and his mini-me friend Peanut the Hamster whom we are hamster-sitting for 3 weeks.

Where did he go? He was here a minute ago...

La Vie est Belle

We're back home again after spending a few blissful days in the South of France with Sheila and her family. For several years now, they have owned a charming house in the Alps of Haute Provence. It's a picture perfect spot for skiing in the winter or swimming, sunning and hiking in the summer. It's a 14 hour drive from London for them but thankfully a little less than 4 for us.


It's one of those places where the living is easy. We sleep late, drink coffee and eat fresh pains aux chocolats while the kids play in the pool, do whatever the spirit moves us to do during the day, and never miss a happy hour on the patio. We spend our evenings eating locally-sourced freshly cooked meals washed down with local Provence wines while watching the sun set over the Alps. The skys are clear and the country air so clean that we were able to see the moons of Jupiter using Cas's telescope last year.

We did fit in zip-cording or Indian rope climbing this year. The kids excelled on the debutant course. Sheila and I mustered all our 40-something courage and did the mid-course - about 20 feet up in the air. Great fun, punctuated by lots of laughs and a few well-aimed curses.

The best part is, we get to spend Sheila's birthday with her as we have made an effort to do for the last 4 years. In short, Cherines is a little piece of heaven, and I am always loathe to leave.

Hero Worship

J and his big cousin JT

Leaving Levanto

We just concluded two spectacular weeks with my brother, sister-in-law, two nephews and niece who were visiting from Victoria, BC, including one absolutely memorable week in Levanto, Italy, one of our favorite spots on the planet. My sister-in-law is Italian-Canadian and had dreamed her entire life of visiting the motherland and thankfully our reality exceeded her expectations.

Levanto is a jewel of a town on the Italian Liguriuan coast. The coast is best known for its' seaport of Genoa, and the ritzy celebrity enclave of Portofino but keep heading a little further south and you arrive at our lesser-known but more charming fave. Levanto still keeps it real. The majority of tourists are Italian, the prices are reasonable, and the focaccia and pesto are unbelievable. Liguria is the pesto capital of Italy and J and myself are longtime addicts.

Levanto is also the gateway to the Cinque Terre which must be experienced in all of its' breathtaking beauty to be fully appreciated. The Cinque Terre is composed of 5 terraced, cliff-hugging villages spilling into the Mediterranean sea. Each village is separated by several kilometers of magnificent coastline. The villages are surrounded by olive groves, vineyards, and lemon, orange and fig trees.

We had thought of day-tripping to close points such as Pisa, Parma and Portofino but frankly once ensconced in our lovely Levanto any thoughts of travelling beyond the Cinque Terre dissipated quickly. We swam in the Mediterranean sea and surf for hours. We collected beach glass and terra cotta shards softened by the sea and salt. We scoured the shops and open markets for merano glass trinkets and handmade leather sandals. We bought loops of Italian sausage, fresh San Marzano tomatos, stacks of focaccia, dozens of dolces and pesto by the kilo for cooking dinners for 8 at a large table in our apartment freshened by the ever-present Mediterranean breezes. My enchanted sister-in-law chatted up the butcher, restauranteurs, and pasticceria owners in her remarkably well-remembered childhood Italian.

My brother and C2 hiked the Ligurian hills every day and completed the full 5-village Cinque Terre hike twice discovering in the process small jasmine-covered villas offering water and sweet lemons. With every gelato, bottle of Barolo, Moretti beer, and limoncello, we mourned our approaching departure date.

But alas, our delightful week did come to and end and we packed up and headed back to Geneva for a few precious days before their collective return to Canada.

Living in Europe and experiencing its' sultry soul has enriched our hearts and minds and made us thirst for more. It has been an extrordinary life experience and particularly sweet when shared with those we love.

St. Augustine may have observed the following a millennia ago but it continues to resonate with me today.

"The World is a book and those who don't travel read only a page"

La Dolce Vita

Levanto, Italy

Hurrah, J is promoted from Premier Enfantine

It has been a long first school year in J's life. Premier Enfantine or the Swiss equivalent of junior kindergarten starts at age 4. J and his great mate Adam Ant started Premier Enfantine together; the only anglophones in a sea of french-speaking kids. As expected, they initially created their own English-only island in said sea. Some strategizing between us parents, the teachers and the school's inspectrice, and the boys were partially separated from one another and gradually integrated. First obstacle overcome.

J started the 2007-08 academic year with his vocabulary limited to answering 'Oui' to every question posed to him from "Vous allez bien?" (how are you?) to "Est-ce que vous voulez de sauce piquante avec votre chocolate?" (do you want hot sauce with your chocolate?). His mastery ended with "Regarde-moi" (look at me) and "Viens" (come). He ended the year speaking full sentences. Second obstacle overcome.

J is also somewhat averse to change. He had his circle of friends (mostly other english-speaking Canadians) and wasn't invested enough in school to make the effort to engage the french-speaking children. Early in the year, it broke my heart to see him playing alone or resisting any attempts by the other kids to include him. All of my Canadian friends urged me to stay the course, having been down this road themselves. By the end of the year, he had weekly playdates with the other kids and was the Pied Piper of Escargots collecting. Third obstacle overcome.

Finally, J is a very spirited child. He is imaginative, active, independant and benefits from a lot of physical and mental challenge. The restraint demanded by school rules, school routine and strict Swiss discipline was difficult for him to adapt to for much of the year. But a reward system at home, praise from his teachers and a slow acceptance of expectations won the day by the end of the year. Fourth obstacle overcome.

This weekend, our village celebrated Promotion where all of the school children are promoted from one grade to the next. They parade though the streets accompanied by village dignitaries, a marching band, and frantically photograph-snapping parents. This cortege is followed by a village dinner of saucisses, frites and glaces, and a full-on carnival atmosphere complete with bungy-jumping, mini roller-coasters, flying boat rides, babarpapa (cotton candy), a live band and dancing. This is the 3rd year we have participated in Promotion and we had a ball. We got home at 10:00 pm.J anticipated Promotion with the same enthusiasm as he did his birthday party. He was so excited, he hardly slept the night before and counted down the hours until the cortege at 4:30. He marched proudly, hand-in-hand with his french-speaking pal Alyssa. The next day, he sadly lamented the end of the school year and asked how long it was until he could start Deuxieme Enfantine.You've come a long way baby, mummy is very proud of you and of us.

Father's Day Redux 2008

Weather: Sunny and 30 degrees

Place: Lake Geneva, Geneva Switzerland

Spectacular spills: Too many to count

Injuries: One waterski to the chin, one nettle sting

Happy Kids: 7

Happy Big Kids: 7

Happy Wet Dogs: 2

Price: 3.50 CHF per minute

Friendship and laughter: priceless

The French Connection

I am a terrible parent. Or at least I did a terrible thing. Last Saturday I completely forgot about a birthday party that J was invited to and looking very forward to attending. Caught up in T-ball, C2's return from a week in Bordeaux and an hour of sunshine, the party never even entered my mind until 6:00 pm when a friend called to ask if J was sick. I felt awful.

Birthday parties are a very big deal at age 5 and fantastic occasions for J to mingle with his french-speaking classmates and further integrate into our community. There are geo-social advances made with every one of these opportunities. So being mature and poised, I immediately e-mailed the classmates' mother with apologies for J's sudden onset of fever. There you go, no feelings hurt, no social slight, no harm done. C2 asked how J would keep to the story. Story? what story? He can't explain himself that well in french yet, so I wasn't worried.

This morning J walked into school with a gift for the classmate who received it with pleasure. As they walked away, I overheard J say "Voici ton cadeau, Marie, ma maman a oublié ton fête d'anniversaire".

The good news is J's french is coming along beautifully.

Rain, Rain Go Away

Have I mentioned that it's been raining here? Actually, that would be an understatement. It has been raining here since February. Months ago , I kept thinking "ok, spring has to come sometime soon". But no, it has been one protracted Geneva winter warmed by maybe a few degrees.

We have had the odd glimpse of sun and then we pale, vitamin-D deprived souls raise our pasty faces to the sky and breathe a fleeting breath of sun-warmed air.

The rain-soaked fans at the Euro 2008 football tournament don't seem bothered. They still parade through downtown streets hooting and hollering, draped proudly in their nation's (damp) flags. J isn't bothered at all. In fact, rain makes for wonderful escargot collecting. 42 escargots in one afternoon is his current record.

But me? My hair is frizzy, my feet are cold and I have yet to water my outdoor plants. I have family arriving in 2 weeks for a beach vacation just south of Geneva.

The forecast for tomorrow? 16 degrees and rain...sigh.

Where I'm At

In case you failed to notice, I have been decidedly silent for the last month or so. It started after a dear friend and the finest blogger I know started being e-stalked and some of the fun faded for those of us putting our day to day life experiences out there. I've debated taking this blog private but my intention had been for this to be an open letter to my family and friends, recounting snippets and soundbites of our European experience. So for the moment I think I will carry on, though I will remove some name and place specifics from future postings.

Then I got robbed - ugh. For the second time in two years. It seriously deflated my enthusiasm for a while. While violent crime in Europe is decidedly lower than in North America, petty crime is definitely higher!

For the last three months, my mum (and J's favorite other grown-up) had been visiting with us. It was wonderful, we toured, day-tripped, and played together. She enthusiastically and with great humour and humility stepped into our busy lives for a short time. She was a welcome fellow traveller who continues to embrace life and her family with the greatest of gusto. We are very blessed. She returned home to Canada a week ago - bummer!

J turned 5 this month and I'm not quite sure how that happened but in spite of my best efforts to keep him small, he keeps growing - double bummer!

Today, however, I got a glaring perspective reminder. I reconnected with my former boss from a long-time client school whose 18-year old son has been serving on active duty in Iraq since January. This month, I fretted over planning a 5-year old's 5th birthday party. My friend JL worried about his son reaching his 19th.

Time to find my voice again.